Songtext zu 'Underdog' von Coup, The

(chorus)
This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog
*repeat chorus*

I raise this glass for the ones who die meaninglessly
And the newborns who get fed intravenously
Somebody's mom caught a job and a welfare fraud case
When she breathe she swear it feels like plastic wrap around her face
Lights turned off and its the third month the rent is late
Thoughts of being homeless, crying till you hyperventilate
Despair permeates the air then sets in your ear
The kids play with that one toy they learned how to share
Coming home don't never seem to be a celebration
Bills they piled up on the coffee table like they're decorations
Big ol' spoons of peanut butter, big ass glass of water
Makes the hunger subside, save the real food for your daughter
You feel like swingin haymakers at a moving truck
You feel like laughing so it seems like you don't give a fuck
You feel like getting so high you smoke a whole damn crop
You feel like crying but you think that you might never stop
Homes with no heat stiffen your joints like arthritis
If this was fiction, it'd be easier to write this
Some folks try to front like they so above you
They'd tear this motherfucker up if they really loved you

*chorus*

There's certain tricks of the trade to try and hault your defeat
Like taking tupperware to an "all you can eat"
Returning used shit for new saying you lost your receipt
And writing four figure checks when your accounts deplete
Then all your problems pile up about a mile up
Thinkin about a partner you can dial up to help you out this foul stuff
Whole family sleepin on a futon while you're clippin coupons
Eatin salad tryin to get full off the croutons
'Crosstown, the situation is identical
Somebody's getting strangled by the system and its tentacles
Misconceptions raise questions to be solved
Alot of b-boys are broke, alot of homeless got jobs
You can make 8 bones an hour till you pass out and still be assed out
Most pyramid schemes don't let you cash out
They say this generation makes the harmony pray
But crime rises consistent with the povery rate
You take the workers and jobs, you're gonna have murders and mobs
A gang of preachers screamin sermons over murmurs and sobs
Saying pray for a change from the Lord above you
They'd tear this motherfucker up if they really loved you

*chorus*

You like this song cause it relates, it's you in this rhyme
We go to stores that only let us in two at a time
We live in places where it costs to get your check cashed
Arguements about money usually drown out the tec blasts
Work six days a week, can't sleep Saturdays though
Muscles tremblin like a pager when the battery's low
And you just don't know where the years went
Although every long shift feels like a year spent
And you can write your resume, but it wouldn't even mention
All the life lessons learned doing six years of detention
Or how you learned the police was just some handicappers
On the ground next to broken glass and candy wrappers
Now don't accept my collects on the phone
Just hit me at the house so I know I ain't alone
And we can chop it up about this messed up system
Homies that's been killed, how we always gonna miss them
It's almost impossible survivin on this fraction
Sip a 40 to the brain for the chemical reaction
You gotta hustle cause they're tryin to push and shove you
I'll tear this motherfucker up since I really love you

*chorus*